Malice in Wonderland
by c h ee r w ii n e
Summary: It wasn't a rabbit hole Alice fell into..." :: When a girl named Alice commits suicide, she finds herself in the midst of a circus sideshow and the mysterious Maniacal Max. Will she, won't she, will she, won't she, will she join the dance?


**Author's Note: **_Hello everyone. (: This is for older teens, due to the dark and morbid nature of the story. It's somewhat still in the making, this labor of love. And I do love it dearly. I will eventually fill in spots I skipped over and continue on, but for now, Read and Review please! thanks. (: oh, and p.s. it's all in one chapter because I'm OCD about things. forgive me. _

_M_alice in Wonderland

A Story Based on FREAK: A Drama in One Act by Angela Hill

1

She was beautiful- thin, blonde, shapely.

And missing.

She was a freak – anorexic, delusional, sick.

And dead.

Word traveled through the high school halls like wildfire. Arguments flared, and opinions flew. Alice had balanced on a fine wire between the dichotomies in her pursuit to become a model. She never knew how many people were truly her friends, but she certainly knew how many were her enemies. Love and hate were the same thing in her book; at least she was on their mind. And she was definitely on their minds, now that she hadn't been seen or heard from in several days.

Kidnap, rape, murder, _suicide – _it hung on everyone's lips.

Not that a lot of those people truly cared what had really happened.

Though attractive as she was, she was hardly the skeletal size she wanted to be. She starved herself for days on end and exercised excessively, desperately striving for that jutting rib, that protruding hip, limbs thin as railings. Her self-image was distorted in her eyes, her beautiful figure becoming repulsive in the mirror. She searched for love and acceptance anywhere she could find it, traveling from guy to guy, group to group. Her classmates shunned her, mocked her, used her. Her reception varied from place to place. But she never felt she belonged.

So she left. She left, lying on her bathroom floor_, Ugly, Fat, Freak,_ carved down her arms and across her stomach. A stained razor rested on her delicate fingertips, her nails manicured and glistening ebony. Her glossy lips tinged blue against her pallid skin. Her perfectly arched brows seemed to hold a discontentment she left behind.

She left, but knew not where she would go.

--

Somewhere dark and foggy, a door opened from a black, closet-like, freestanding box. Alice stepped out into the night. A shaky breath escaped in a white haze from her lips as her bare feet gingerly touched the soggy ground. The cold rushed up to meet her. Her folded arms did little for warmth in her silken nightgown. Alice was perplexed.

'_Where am I?'_ she thought_, '__**What**__ am I? Am I dead...or a-?' _

"Freak!"

Alice's head turned sharply. There was a yellow glow casting through the fog where the voice had sounded. She stood still for a moment before hearing nothing more than the static of the sleeping world. The calm made her disregard the voice and slowly move toward the soft illumination. Only a few steps forward, she came to a part in the fog.

A large wooden sign, painted in peeling letters of burgundy and goldenrod and lit by many round bulbs, hung between a pair of tall, metal posts.

The sudden light made Alice squint to make out the sign.

"…Sideshow?" she uttered with distaste, barely above a whisper.

"Freak!" the voice said again, quick and pecking as a bird.

Alice looked around frantically; the voice was awfully near. She secretly hoped it really was only a bird.

"Excuse me…?" she said, incredulously.

"Freakshow!"

A heavy thump landed behind her, and she spun around with a small cry to meet a tall, dark figure.

"Sideshow is just the P.C.B.S. they make us put on the sign."

The figure stepped into the light, causing Alice to step farther back. It was a man, not much older than her, with messy, dark strawberry blonde hair that grazed across his eyebrows and framed his teal eyes. His outfit consisted of black pants and glossy dress shoes, a crimson vest, and a dingy dress shirt with matching crimson pinstripe and the cuffs rolled up. A stringy, black bowtie hung loosely around his neck, and a top hat sat lopsided on his head.

And his voice -- his voice was like honey, which gurgled in his throat. The soft growl it created was both frightening and alluring.

The man was certainly striking, at the least.

"W-who are you?" she stammered, slightly intimidated.

The man bowed, "Friend of the freaks, manager of the mayhem, barker of the boulevard, keeper of the chaos, juggler of the judged, king of the crazed, duke of the delusional…"

Alice cut him short. "No, I mean your name. _Name_, like, do you have a name?"

_This guy has some serious screws loose, _she thought in the back of her mind.

He took her hand with a smile, "Ahhh, yes. Maniacal Max, harbinger of morbidity."

"…Maniacal Max?" she repeated, incredulous once again.

Words quickly rolled off his tongue, "Yes, yes, of course! Maniacal! Adjective, frantic, from the Latin word mania – noun, insane, lunatic, madman, _especially _when marked by extreme excitement and excessive enthusiasm."

Not allowing herself to be in his grip for too long, Alice withdrew her delicate hand and folded her arms again.

"Yeah…I think I can see that about you. So, can I just call you Max or does the Maniacal always precede?"

For once, he didn't jump on the question.

His voice was quieter, "Ah, yes, yes, Max will do fine." He cleared his throat and glanced around suspiciously before returning to his usual volume,

"So! You must be our new freak." He chuckled, beginning to circle her.

"New…freak?" She watched him.

"We've been waiting for you. And my! You don't disappoint!"

Max stopped and put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a smirk that was hardly welcoming.

"So tell me, what is your moniker?"

Alice looked perplexed.

"_Name, _like, do you have a name?" he mocked, causing her to brush his hand from her bare skin.

"It's Alice," she replied, agitated.

"Perfect!" Max exclaimed, or more or less snarled, much to her surprise, "Our very own _Malice _in Wonderland!"

He chuckled and started to walk off underneath the sign, fading into the shadows, the sound of his voice making singsong and drifting away.

"_Come see Alice…full of malice…killed herself…and –"_

"Wait!" Alice called out, suddenly frightened by the emptiness that surrounded her, alone in the dim spotlight of the sign, "Wait…"

A few anxious moments passed, her eyes straining to see into the dark, before Maniacal Max practically materialized into the light again. He stood there with a quizzical brow.

"W-where are you going?" she stammered from a sudden chill. Her thin nightgown quivered, her long, white-blonde hair providing the only warmth on her body.

He answered blatantly, "Where I came from."

"Where is that?"

He suddenly seemed impatient, unfolding his arms to point upwards.

"You came from…the sky?"

He unfolded his arms again, this time pointing in every direction before folding them again.

"You came from…everywhere?"

He grinned, shaking his shaggy head slightly, "You'll catch on."

Max put an arm around her trembling shoulders. His skin was shockingly warm against her own. Alice suddenly felt the heavy blanket of sleep, despite being in the company of a strange man in an even stranger place. She looked down at her arms – her razor markings were still there, imbedded in her ivory skin. But she had no capacity to think anymore on it she was so tired.

"Let's get you out of this cold, shall we?" Max said, and led a willing Alice into the dark.

2

Alice awoke in a sea of mismatched throws and sheets, her head floating on a variety of pillows. A din of commotion trickled in through a cascade of striped fabric and a stream of soft light cast itself across the bed. Blearily she blinked her eyes and raised her head, believing for a moment that last night had been a dream. But then she heard it.

"Max…?" she asked drowsily.

A thick and indistinguishable male voice stood out from the muffled sounds outside. Quickly, Alice tore the covers away and stepped out into the chilled air, her feet met by a forgiving rug on the ground. She crossed lightly to the opening and drew the sheet back with a delicate hand. A throng of strangely dressed people – Alice assumed they were people – were conversing and moving about the tents with much excitement, and closest to her stood a man with a black top hat and a crimson tailcoat.

"Max!" she blurted in a sort of yelling whisper, and the man spun on his heels and gave a sharp, reprimanding _hush_, as if he were almost startled. Alice noticed a vast majority of the crowd stop and stare before he waved her back into the tent and ducked inside.

That usual cunning grin spread across his face as he removed his hat.

"So, my little _Malice_, how was your slumber in Wonderland?" he questioned, a cunning grin on his face, and his teal eyes twinkling amongst the pits of his smoky makeup.

"_Curiouser and curiouser,_" Alice replied with a hint of spite.

"HA!" Max said and drew back the sheet again, "Well then, _will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?_"

She gave a sour smile as she passed his looming body.

***

Alice stood in front of a tall, worn mirror, watching the ladies around her poke and prod and nip and tuck the fabric on her slim frame. There were Siamese twins doing her hair, a cat girl crouched down around her legs, and a flamboyant snake boy humming showtunes and applying her makeup. The others were hard at work on her outfit, but she couldn't quite tell what was 'freakish' about them.

"Why…why are you doing this?" Alice mumbled, to avoid moving.

"Well, honey, you want to look your best for _him_, don't you?" said the Fat Lady from a chair in the back, whose name, Alice had learned, was actually Ethel.

"_Him_…?"

"Why, Maniacal Max, my dearest! He's _so_ handsome, and he's taken such a likin' to you. Ain't that right, girls?" – they earnestly agreed with much girlish carrying on- "We knew you were somethin' special when he was talkin' about you before you even showed up! It's about time he found himself a nice girl. All of us have, ehem, tried to win his heart at one time or another, but he wasn't interested. No one has ever been graced with the interest of Maniacal Max. And likewise, he hardly ever says a word 'bout himself at all! So terribly secretive, he is, but he takes good care of our little family here and we don't ask questions. We're very loyal to him, though, ain't we girls?" –another bout of giggling and fervent 'yes's- "So, my darlin' Alice, I think all of us would agree that we want to live, how you say, vicariously through you."

The flock around her stepped back and admired their handiwork with much pride. Alice examined her reflection. On her thin frame there was now an off-white, sleeveless, scoop-neck dress that flared into a full, short, black skirt propped up by an overly fluffed petticoat. Around her waist was a black corset that enhanced her skeletal appearance. And on her legs were web-like fishnets and tremendous black stilettos on her feet. Her pearly hair was drawn up in a very messy, but strangely elaborate bun, that allowed straggles of hair to fall on her pale face, which now had a Cheshire smile of red lipstick and Max-like smoky circles around her eyes. The Siamese twins, Karma and Krishna, put on the finishing touches – a tiny top hat with drooping feathers, a 'bowtie-and-collar'-like choker, and a tailcoat.

Alice was stunned with the end result. She never imagined she could look as beautiful as she had always wanted, especially not dressed like a _freak._ Not dressed _by_ freaks.

"Oh, just imagine, someday we could have little, adorable, _maniacal_ bundles of freakishness running around this old place!" squealed Ethel, her frighteningly small chair creaking under her wiggles of joy.

Alice nearly choked. "Sorry ladies, but I expect to leave here very shortly. I don't know where this _place_ is exactly, and it's been fun and all, but I need to get home now." - she pushed past them – "Besides, I'm not in the least attracted to Max."

She looked over their shoulder at them as she started out of the tent. They were oddly silent.

And then she ran into him. _Literally. _

Her wide-eyes met his cold stare, which was more imposing than she had seen. It made her shiver.

"Late for an important date, _my little white rabbit?_" Max growled; the honey in his throat turned to toxin. The charcoal triangles under his eyes twitched, and he appeared to bite his lip.

Alice made her response only in fearful eyes and a slack mouth. She felt a strong hand grip her around her delicate wrist, and she thought she might've squeaked.

"I think it's time we had a chat." – the ladies in the room straightened – "_A__lone__."_

A few steps out of the tent, he snarled as quietly as he could,

"The Maniacal _always_precedes in mixed company, got it?"

3

Max shook out the match and sat down in an old, wingback armchair. He sighed as he positioned himself sideways, legs draping over the armrest; the black of his snakeskin shoes glistened in the warm glow of several mismatched candles that had obviously been lit many times. He let himself sink back into the soft embrace of the well-worn, ebony leather.

Alice sat facing him, stock-still and rigid in an elegant wooden chair. She tried to swallow the words she had last spoken: _I'm not in the least attracted to Max. _She couldn't kid herself, especially as she looked at him now – so lax, so mysterious, so _handsome. _Dark shadows cast themselves across his visage, his hair was turned a deep amber and, for once, he was without a top hat. He was somehow stripped down to something more human. She tried to look past him, tried not to show her emotions. But those piercing eyes were unfaltering.

At length, Max spoke.

"So you want to leave, do you?"

Alice bit her glossy lip and bowed her head in guilt.

"Well you can't," he continued with frankness, "Truth of the matter is, you're dead. _I'm_ dead. They're _all_ dead."

She looked down at her arms, at the markings she had forgotten were there. Now it was starting to make sense.

"I found you on your bathroom floor with a razor blade, a pretty face, and a whole lot of enmity. I knew you had potential, so I gave you my special invitation." – he got up and walked over to her – "Go ahead, have a look – on your ankle."

Alice hesitated, mind racing, before she drew her ankle up to her other knee. Beneath her fishnet she could see a thin band of crimson suede, braided, and on it hung the tarnished, golden letters M M_. __Maniacal Max._ She looked up at him with question.

"Consider it an honor," he said, "that I hand-picked you myself. You're the only one here with that distinction." His smirk slid away and his demeanor suddenly changed to one of persecution again, "But you want to _leave_. After I went through the trouble to lead you here instead of letting you receive the Ultimate Judgment, you want to _leave_! You're a freak! You don't belong in Heaven _or _Hell. You belong here, with us, with _me!_" Maniacal Max was livid, like a snarling canine ready to attack.

Alice rose up out of the chair to face him and tried to suppress her fear. She spoke as calm as possible, but had a tinge of hurt and spite in her voice.

"I see it now. You brought me here for your _own, selfish reasons. _That's why we're all here, isn't it? Because _you_ don't want to be _alone. _And _you_ were afraid of judgment, so you hid from it and drug us all here to hide with you. Isn't that just it?"

Max stood, quietly fuming inside, his nose wrinkling and fists clenching.

"I knew it," Alice said and gave him a grin of success, much like he had done every time he had defeated her with words, and passed him. Her heels clacked on the wood of his trailer.

As she reached out for the curtain in the doorway, her other hand was grabbed, but not menacingly.

Max's voice was a dark, soft, pleading whisper, "Alice…"

It was the first time he used her real name, and it sent an arrow through her heart.

Alice turned in a sudden rush of impulse, felt her fingers slide through his silken hair, her nose filled with a spicy, musky cologne as his hand pressed on the small of her back and drew her close, and then –

Their lips met.

4

The brisk night air opened its arms to welcome them. Max breathed it in with a growl of satisfaction and adjusted his velvet tailcoat - which was, of course, crimson – and placed his top hat on his head. He put out a hand to help Alice down the wooden steps from his trailer, who was slightly awed at the sudden act of chivalry. But as soon as it had happened, it was gone. His hand slid to her wrist, where he then began leading her down the tent-lined thoroughfare. There was an excitement, an enthusiasm, which she hadn't seen in him since the night they met. The _maniacal _was shining through.

At the end of the long, grassy row, there was a large platform, quite like a stage. It was backdropped by a wall of wood that had a small outcropping from which a person could make announcements, Alice thought, which was only reachable by the spiral staircase attached to it. Max led her up it.

The outcropping platform was barely capable to fit the both of them, and she was relieved that there was a metal railing surrounding it. From a post on the railing Max took a wooden megaphone and put it in front of his mouth.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he boomed over the silent fairground, "It's showtime!"

He reached behind him and pulled down a switch. Lights burst to life in a giant 'pop' of electricity. The whole area was drowned in golden illumination and heavy shadows. Spanned on a rope across two poles behind them, there was now lit the big letters,

F R E A K S H O W.

Alice heard cries and yells of excitement in a moments notice. Seeing the freaks moving about, talking and getting prepared so happily, she found herself smiling. She looked down at them, thinking about how much they must actually like being there, when she noticed a metal cage hidden in the shadow. There was a dark form stirring inside it.

"What's in there?" Alice asked, tapping Max's arm and pointing.

"That," he said simply, "is It."

"What is It?"

"It is horribly disgusting, an atrocious beast. You don't even want to see. And don't even _think_ about letting It out, for _any_ reason. Once It gets out, It doesn't get back in.

"But don't worry, we're getting rid of It soon."

Alice was terribly puzzled by this creature, and Max's indifference to it. He seemed to at least _care_ about the other freaks. But he was very adamant; apparently the thing distressed him.

Once the freaks began to gather at the platform below, they both headed down the stairs. Max told her to wait a few minutes for them to get ready, and Alice moved to the back of the crowd. The girls greeted her with giggles and silly smiles and the boys with winks and shy smirks as she made her way through. She could hear Max's powerful voice getting farther away, slipping out of her conscious, and her curiosity was starting to gain hold.

In the shadows, Alice slinked over to the metal cage.

It was not a monster, nor hideous, from what she could see. It appeared to be human, clothed in ambiguous rags and with a hemp sack over its head with a crude face painted on it. It continued to sit there with its knees drawn up, seemingly unaware of her. Alice gently placed her delicate, porcelain fingertips on the cold steel.

There was a rustle, but not inside the bars.

A lady in a tiny, gossamer dress came tiptoeing out from behind the nearest tent and to the opposite side of the cage. The light seemed to cast a soft glow from her skin; she was not a freak. Then, humming cheerily and paying no mind to Alice, she proceeded to remove the lock.

"Stop! You can't do that! If Maniacal Max finds out, well, I don't know…but, he said _never_ to let It out!" Alice tried to express her urgency in as much of a whisper as possible, to avoid drawing attention.

The lady smiled blithely and put a finger to her lips as she freed the captive being.

"Go home, Alice," she said sweetly, and disappeared with It into the night.

Alice stared, confounded by what had just happened. She blinked rapidly to clear her mind of its confusion before quickly sneaking back to the show that was beginning, from the sounds of the calliope music.

From above, the cold gaze of Maniacal Max fell upon her moving shape, and he furrowed his brow.

***

The freaks dispersed and retired to their tents, bustling with high-spirits. Their chatter died off quickly behind striped cloth, and only the grunting of a handful of men, carrying Ethel on a chair, could be heard in the still air. Alice stood quietly, and stiffened as she felt Max's hand glide down her arm and his breath on the nape of her bare neck.

"I'll be the _white rabbit_, if you'll _follow me_ back to my quarters," his voice was gurgling and dripping with honey again, sweeter than ever. Alice was compliant as he took her hand and not her wrist, and began to walk back.

He was helping her back up into his trailer when he paused. The effeminate snake boy came racing up, nearly breathless.

"Maniacal Max! I wasss heading back…to my tent…when I noticsssed…that It…isss gone!" he sputtered out between pants, frantic.

Max's eyes widened and jaw tightened.

Alice froze, feeling a sudden tension at these words.

"You…" He turned around, rigid with anger and betrayal.

"_You_ let It out! I told you never to let It out! To think I trusted you? How dare you deliberately disobey me!" he snarled viciously, "Get out of my sight!"

Maniacal Max shoved her to the ground and disappeared into the night.

Tears carved valleys in her makeup as she watched him vanish into the fog that was beginning to roll in. Alice could hear the hurt that was in his voice as he told her to leave. She looked at his trailer, wondering when he'd come back, when she could tell him the truth.

But then she remembered: _Go home, Alice._ Home. What could possibly be there for her anymore? But then again, what could be _here_ for her anymore?

She choked back a sob and turned to the snake boy, who stood, staring.

"Do you know…what It was?" she asked, her voice cracking.

The boy shook his head troublesomely.

"Oh missss, It never belonged here. It wasss horrible, horrendousss, revolting, HOPE!"


End file.
